The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-03-03

with the easy tendency to the supersti-
ton peculiar to their class, had asso-
ciated his presence with the perils OF
the ship.
1t would have required but slight en-
couragement from their official to in
duce them to pay him the same compli-
ment that the sailors of Joppa paid to
Jonah on similar occasion, when
The sea wrought and was tempestu-
Gus.
But on the tenth night, just as the
Captain was ready to answer a sum
mons to visit the sick mans berth, the
storm ceased with a suddenness that
was startling: the wind was entirely
IulIed, and no evidence of its fury re-
mained except the long swelling billows
of the sca-the deep aftersighs of it,
mighty passion.
The sudden stilling of the tempest
and the mournful creaking of the spars
now audible for the first time for many
days. forced shade of melancholy
over my grandfather spirit as he has
tened down the gangway at the call OF
the stranger.
a g.. 30. rc2 iireSeIf hpstde The berth
the sick man fixed his brilliant eyes
upon him and said calmly:
Captain, am dyingr'
Il hope not, my dear sir; this dread
full gale has weakened you. 1t is all
over now, and you will soon be better. "
No, Captain he repeated, Il am
dying! The tempest, l know, i over;
so is that other tempest in my breast!
This ship has long been tossed and
beaten about by the fury of the waves,
but it has been sunshine and calm COM
pared with that tempest, Captain! But
it is all over now, for | have forgiven
him-he has long been in the grave
but | have forgiven himH
My grandfather thought he was de-
lirious; but a second look at the deep
intelligence of his eve and the smiling
calmness of his features, forbade the
conclusion. He gazed at him mo-
ment with mingled compassion and
curiosity, anxious to learn something Of
a history the closing scene of which
was so dark and mysterious, but un-
willing to ask it. His look was inter-
preted, and the stranger continued:
Il told you | was a sailor. OF thir-
ty-fve years have not spent one upon
the land. But this was not my choice.
Like a ship, Captain, my supports were
Knocked from under me, and | was
launched upon the ocean, My father
was an English merchant in Cadiz, ex-
clusively engaged in navigation. He
layishly provided for my education.
Having traversed the halls of science l
left Oxford and returned to Spain at
the age of 20. This first year of my
freedom from school | spent in ramb
ling over the mountains of that enchant-
ed country. In deep inland dell shut
out from the world, where the earth
was always green and the sky always
blue, l met one day beautiful young
hepherdeSS-and loved her.
y will not describe her charms, Cap
tain, for you have been young, and a
heart that has loved needs not to be
told that to the eye of true affection
its object has no defects.
My father learned my secret-but l
knew it not. | had lifelong secret
afterward which he never learned.
He came to me one morning, smiled,
and said:
My son, do you want to go to
Cuba?'
Il eagerly answered in the affirma-
tive; for it had been cherished but
hitherto forbidden passion with me to
travel.
lone of my vessels sails tomorrow
he said, and you may go
This short interval allowed me no
time to bid farewell to my shepherdess,
who was fifty miles distant, nor even
to inform her Of my departure, but l
said aloud: III soon be back, and
many other consultations / whispered to
my heart the next day while bounding
over the Atlantic.
The ship arrived in good time at
Havana, discharged her cargo, reload
ed, and sailed for-Calcutta, was a
prisoner on my fathers ship, and for
five longyears | was kept from home
as if all the waters of the ocean could
wash out my love!
81 escaped at length from the prison.
ship while lying at Rio and took pass
age in French bark for the Guadala-
quiver. No circumnavigation Of the
globe was ever so long as that voyage.
| strained my eyes every day watching
for Gibraltar, which | knew was thous-
ands Of miles off, and every night |
dreamed Of mountain rivulets, snowy
focks, and Ina.
ARRIVING at last at Seville, hasten
ed over the Nevada and sought the
sunny dell where my affections had
long nestled, and there found that the
idol of my heart was. the wife of an
Andalusian shepherd, She had been
told that | had deserted her. and after
ward that | was dead. / did not weep
for my heart was turned TO stone NV
father. said |. shall never know of his
victoryn | did not 90 to see him: it
was wicked, | know, but, bul4ing with
the spirit Of revenge. l turned again to
the sea and never saw him more am
faint, Captain, and cannot prolong my
task. In six months | was master of a
fast-sailing vessel-you have seen that
vessel, Captain, bat never in port, and
| have often seen you, and knew your
name twenty years ago. But no mat
ter about that My father continued
to freight his ships and send them to
different parts of the world-but he
never knew that | superintended a
large part of his business, and that
many of his cargoes found sale in
ports to which the5 had never been
consigned. His agents sometimes fail
ed To report.
Il have said enough, Captain; before
to-morrow's sun sets | shall be in the
caverns of the deep. But have forgiven
him and do not complain. But have
a fortune in the Bank of England, but
with it is deposited WILL and the or
phan son of Ina is my heir. You have
been kind to me Captain, and in token
of my gratitude l beg you to accept my
watch and cutlass and this paper, which
you will carefully preserve" So say
ing he held out a folded scrap of paper,
which 70 ,N,,t biS